Eight young men, brought home in boxes. Eight young men who will laugh no more, love no more, fight no more. Their president was there to salute them as they were carried from the plane. Do they care?

They are but a few of the casualties of our ongoing insistence on fighting what seem to be endless bloody wars, first in Iraq, then in Afghanistan. And even as we “celebrate” Veterans Day, debate goes on in Washington over whether to increase our presence there, send more young men and women into harm’s way, create more graves to mourn over each November.

Sometime during the war in Vietnam, when I was watching protesters march in the streets of Chicago and trying to make sense of that conflict, I came across a quotation from a person named Sallust; it was appropriate then and it is appropriate now.

“It is always easy to begin a war, but very difficult to stop one, since its beginning and end are not under the control of the same man. Anyone, even a coward, can commence a war, but it can be brought to an end only by the consent of the victors.”

I thought I understood, and do recall very well how and why we got into this mess. It began with the incredible sight of two towering buildings in New York City turned into rubble by a handful of terrorists. We’d been attacked, on our own soil, and that had not happened since Pearl Harbor. But when Pearl Harbor was destroyed in a surprise attack, as in the 911 horror, we knew exactly who the enemy was and where to go to retaliate, even though it would take many lives and a circuitous route to reach the finale.

But now? Well, somehow the enemy has become amorphous, with many names and faces. Is it al Qaeda? The Taliban? Muslims? Islam? All of the above? Why do I have the sense that many of us are not sure exactly who we’re fighting in either Iraq or Afghanistan, and perhaps even why. Who are our allies, who’s the enemy?

I am fully aware that I’ve been playing the ostrich head in the sand thing for some time now, and admit that I’m naive in the ways of today’s wars, which seem more political than patriotic. I would welcome any input from readers that might help me understand why we must send our young men and women to fight other people’s wars in places where they have been at each other’s throats since memory began and are not likely to change, even if and/or when we finally leave, “victorious” or otherwise. And once again, who, exactly, is the enemy?

In peace the sons bury their fathers, and in war the fathers bury their sons.

— Francis Bacon.

Eight young men, brought home from war, in boxes. Even one is too many.

No recipes today. Sorry, but it seems too trivial to talk recipes and cooking when today we are paying homage to all who have fought and died, whether or not we fully understand.